


To Be Kind

by luvsanime02



Series: Cocktail Friday Fics [18]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cocktail Friday, F/M, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02
Summary: Cathy knows that this isn't going to work anymore.





	To Be Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the April 20th Cocktail Party prompt found here: https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/image/172995022140.

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own Gundam Wing, and am making no money off of this fic.

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**To Be Kind** by luvsanime02

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Cathy resists the urge to sigh. She’s here again, in Peter’s home, and she doesn’t know why. He’s kissing her neck, murmuring sweet endearments in her ear, and all she wants is to finish her martini.

Eventually, Cathy sits upright, slowly pushing Peter back with her free hand nudging against his shoulder. 

“What is it?” he asks, and he’s so nice, really. He looks so concerned that something might be wrong. 

That’s why she takes a calming breath and gently cups his cheek with her hand. “This isn’t going to work,” she says simply.

Peter sits back and looks at her quietly. His brows are furrowed, like he’s trying to pick apart a puzzle. Cathy wishes him luck. Now that he’s no longer on top of her, she lifts her arm from behind the couch and takes another sip of her martini. It’s quite good, mixed just right, and she’s more excited by the drink than from all of Peter’s kisses.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asks.

Everything. Cathy just barely keeps the word trapped behind her teeth. She doesn’t want to hurt him.

She’s going to, anyway.

“I went to lunch with a friend yesterday,” she says at last, carefully measuring out each word. “We talked for about two hours, and we had a lot of fun together.”

“Alright?” Peter says, still understandably confused.

Cathy takes another deep breath, and makes sure that she looks him squarely in the face. If she’s going to hurt him, she’s at least going to make herself watch. “That was more fun than I’ve had in months,” she confesses.

As she expects, his face twists, crumples, and she can actually see something dim behind his eyes. Hell. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asks, leaning back now, leaning away, trying to put even more distance between them. She can’t really blame him.

“Because I didn’t realize it myself,” Cathy admits with a shrug. “I know I’m not perfect, Peter. I know I should have seen the signs a long time ago.” He should have, too, though she doesn’t point that out. “I didn’t realize until I was laughing yesterday, until I felt happy, that I haven’t felt that way around you for a while now.”

“So, that’s it?” Peter asks, running a hand through his perfectly-gelled hair and messing it all up. “We can’t try to make this work instead of just giving up?”

Cathy doesn’t even want to try anymore. She doesn’t say that, though. It’d be too cruel.

“I think it’s for the best if we split up now,” she says instead, “before things get worse.”

Peter looks down at his hands, then back up at her with such a sad look in his eyes that she wants to cry. Not because of their breakup, but from the sheer force of his sorrow. “I would have married you,” he says softly. “I would have asked, if you would have let me.”

Cathy finishes her drink, and then sets the empty glass down on the coffee table. She leans over and kisses Peter’s cheek, and then stands up. “I know,” she says. “That’s why I had to do this now.”

She walks over to the door and puts on her shoes, grabs her purse and coat, and only then does she chance a glance over her shoulder. Peter’s watching her. He looks like part of him wants to race after her, grab her shoulders and pull her back into his embrace and kiss her some more. Cathy’s grateful that he doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and then opens the door, stepping outside and closing it again behind her.

The air’s chilly, and she puts on her coat, finally letting out a deep sigh. She feels free, and that hurts, too. Still, at least Cathy knows that she did the right thing. She doesn’t feel regret, only the sting of a wound that’s been lanced and disinfected. Able to heal at long last.

Cathy walks away, certain in her path, and ready to move on.


End file.
